


Ephemeral

by KlingonEtiquette



Category: Kamen Rider OOO
Genre: Chiyoko helps with that definitely, M/M, Sulking, Tagging is harder than it looks, Wistful, and a lot of mild language, ankh is improving at expressing his feelings, being a greeed is no fun, eiji is a ray of sunshine thanks for coming to my ted talk, humanity is harder than it looks, probably some pining, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-09-19 22:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingonEtiquette/pseuds/KlingonEtiquette
Summary: Ankh is new to humanity. It's painful, it's stupid, it's relentlessly miserable, and it's a nuisance, but he'll do anything to keep it. Especially since he's discovered an emotion that's something like love.The title has changed, but the story is the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter's a little short, but I promise there will be longer ones! Let me know what you want out of this story, really.

There are things Ankh still doesn’t understand. This human body is weak and disappointing, susceptible to things like cold, hunger, exhaustion, and numerous little aches. When he wakes up in the morning (or in the middle of the night), Ankh has to fight through a fog as this _stupid_ human body begs him to go back to sleep for just another hour. When he hits his elbow on a doorframe, every nerve in his body lights on fire. Eiji calls it a funny bone, but there’s nothing funny about it. It hurts, it’s stupid, and most of all it’s human.

“Hey, Ankh!”

 _Speak of the Devil…_ An irritatingly human phrase. Eiji stands in the doorway, looking up at Ankh’s makeshift nest with his obnoxious eyes and his obnoxious smile. Even worse, Ankh’s stupid, borrowed human body responds to Eiji with a soaring heart and a sharp intake of breath, as if it’s overjoyed to see another living thing. Because that’s what Ankh is now: living.

“What do you want?” he snaps, but Eiji holds out a popsicle and Ankh falls silent. He takes it without saying thank you (that would be too far) and shoves it in his mouth. Cold stings his teeth and tongue, followed by the sweet taste of lemonade. It tastes like magic to a Greeed. Ankh has tasted before, but that was when everything tasted the same: dry and unvaried, like the color grey would taste if it tasted like anything. _Or if it tasted like nothing_ , Ankh thinks with a grimace.

“Ankh,” Eiji says. From the way he says it, Ankh wonders if this is the second or third time. “Are you all right?”

Ankh tosses back his hair. “Tch.”

“You don’t seem like yourself.”

 _Like you’d recognize me if I did._ The popsicle crunches between Ankh’s teeth, a painful shock of cold that travels through his jaw and down his neck. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I fucking said I was fine, Eiji!” Ankh turns onto his side. He throws the popsicle stick in Eiji’s general direction, not caring if it lands on the floor or in Eiji’s hands. “I just want to find my core medals. That’s all.”

He can all but hear Eiji roll his eyes. “Didn’t I say we would?”

“You say a lot of things. Only half of them end up being true.”

“That’s not my fault and you know it.”

Even Ankh jumps at the harsh laugh he lets out. “What do I care whose fault it is? All I want is to find my damn medals. All I want is to be whole.”

But Ankh realizes, even as he says it, that he no longer knows what _whole_ is. It’s been months locked in this human body, weak, miserable, lost, so painfully far from alone that Ankh thinks he might rip his own arms off just to cope, and yet Ankh can’t remember what wholeness is. It isn’t this, but… it is _exactly_ this.

The Greeed aren't whole. That's why they want and want and want, to fill the holes left behind by hearts they never had, and Ankh can't ( _won't_ ) go back to being like that. Not when he has felt the sun on his skin. Not when he has tasted cold water, watched the sunset through unobstructed eyes... And not when he has felt a heart beating under his hand. Even if this heart is not his, even if this hand is not his, it's better than the nothing of being a Greeed. It's better than emptiness. Even pain is better than that. 

And then there's Eiji. Eiji confuses Ankh in a multitude of ways he can't explain, both wonderful and awful, and all Ankh knows is he misses Eiji's voice when it falls silent. He misses Eiji's face when Eiji turns away. He likes the way Eiji's hand is soft and warm when Eiji grabs his elbow to pull him away from a fight. Every time Eiji leaves the room, Ankh feels like a part of his new heart leaves, too. He hates it. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. And he never wants to give it up, because what the hell was his life before he felt things like this? It wasn't even a life! It was an existence, cold and simple, stretching ahead like a long cable of steel. It was a strong existence, yes, but it was also a boring one. 

"Ankh?"

Ankh refuses to turn back to Eiji. "I'm fine. Go away."

"No."

Ankh kicks his legs out. Might as well get comfortable, since he might be stuck here a while. Begrudgingly, and since there's a chill in the air, he pulls a blanket up to his chin and closes his eyes, praying this will be enough for Eiji to go away. He doesn't want that, not really, but it's better than explaining what he can't even explain to himself. It's better than saying he's angry because Eiji makes him happy. That makes no sense, and it certainly won't make sense to someone like Eiji, who revels in happiness the way Ankh revels in sunlight. 

"Ankh," Eiji says again. "You know you can tell me anything. We're friends, even if you don't want to be."

"I..." Ankh's face burns. Another horrible thing about the human body. "There's nothing to tell. I'm out of sorts, that's all. Not feeling like myself."

He feels Eiji's hand fall on his shoulder, warm even through the fabric of Ankh's shirt. For a moment, Ankh considers asking Eiji to stay, because he knows the hand on his shoulder means Eiji's about to leave, but he remembers that he asked Eiji to leave and decides against it. 

"Get some rest, Ankh. I'll be back in an hour."

As Eiji's footsteps recede, Ankh relaxes against his pillows. Eyes closed, he watches the light dance as colors under his eyelids until he drifts off into something like a restful slumber. Dreamless, at least, and that's enough for Ankh.


	2. Chapter 2

There's nothing for it, Ankh realizes. Through the curtained window, he sees the sun begin to rise, staining the white clouds like wine on a tablecloth. In the bed by the window, Eiji sleeps soundly, his breathing soft and deep. Ankh pretends to watch the sky, but inside he knows he's watching the peace on Eiji's quiet, sleeping face, marveling at how Eiji even smiles in the midst of his dreams. Once the sun is up, Eiji will wake up and Ankh will go back to pretending he doesn't notice him, doesn't care. But here, at night, from the safety of his nest, Ankh can admire the sunlight playing on Eiji's cheek in gentle pinks and oranges. He can wonder at the heavy warmth in his chest, the way his breath sticks in his throat and lungs. He can wonder whether Mezool and the rest would stop their relentless hunt if they could see the world the way Ankh sees the world now, the beauty of it, the exquisite, incessant, wonderful agony of it. 

Hina is already in the kitchen when Ankh goes to get breakfast (a popsicle, but he'll call it breakfast). She lifts her cup of coffee and says, "Morning."

Ankh nods. "Whatever." 

"Can I get you a cup?" She means the coffee, of course. 

"If you want." 

Hina pours out a cup of coffee, stirs in milk and sugar, and slides it across the table to Ankh, who catches it and takes a drink.

“If I asked,” says Hina, “would you tell me what’s been bothering you?”

This is another thing Ankh hates about humans. They think they know each other so well just because they share basic needs and emotions. Hina doesn’t know Ankh. She doesn’t know what he needs or what he feels. She doesn’t know a damn thing about him, so what gives her the right to talk to him like she does?

“No,” he retorts. _Leave it alone!_

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hina drums her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. Ankh gets a creeping feeling up his spine that she knows, even if he won’t tell her, and even if he doesn’t know himself. (Even if he won’t admit that he knows.) Mercifully, though, she doesn’t press the issue. Ankh knows he should tell her. It’s another thing he knows since being in the detective’s body, that humans solve problems faster with each other, but he’s too stubborn and too much one of the Greeed to admit that he might need help. Hina’s help is particularly unappetizing to Ankh. She fancies herself his little sister far more than he’d like, and even if he wants to, he doesn’t know how to be a big brother. _I don’t want to,_ he thinks. More and more, it feels like he doesn’t know what he wants.

“Fine,” he snaps. “But you owe me an ice.”

Hina’s face lights up in a way that makes Ankh want to punch the kitchen wall. He sits next to her at the kitchen table, turning his cup of coffee round and round in his hands, and contemplates what to say now that he has Hina’s attention. Something to shut her up, but that’s all. He won’t share anything important and he certainly won’t share anything embarrassing. So what if he tells a few lies? If he gets an ice, then it’s all the same to him. If Hina doesn’t know, then it’s all the same to her. No harm, no foul, as humans say.

“It’s…” Ankh flounders for something small and believable. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“Nightmares?” Hina asks, furrowing her brows.

“I don’t know. Yes.” It’s a lie. If Ankh hasn’t been sleeping, it’s because he’s afraid of what he’ll dream, but he hasn’t had a nightmare in weeks. These dreams are somehow worse. He wakes up with an ache in his chest and tears in his eyes even though the dreams themselves are pleasant. When he dreams, he dreams about Eiji’s hand brushing his when he returns the medals Ankh lends him. He dreams about the way Eiji’s mouth twitches right before he smiles. He dreams about running his fingers through Eiji’s hair just to see how it feels, since everything feels different to human hands.

“Ankh,” Hina says. She sounds worried. “You in there?”

He shakes his head, waking himself up, and wonders if he should go back to his nest and try to get another few hours of rest. _Eiji’s still asleep_ , he thinks. Coffee sounds fine, then, as an alternative. Ankh takes another sip. Silence stretches over the kitchen, crushing and cold, until Ankh has to say, “Do you think it’s possible for a Greeed to… Forget it.”

“For a Greeed to what?”

Embarrassment floods Ankh’s face with red. He balls his hands into fists on the table and grits out, “Fall in love.”

For a long, painful moment, Hina doesn’t get it. She considers the question as impartially as she considers a basket of apples, blinking rapidly every few seconds. Ankh waits. He’s good at waiting. Eight hundred years asleep makes this look like child’s play, insignificant as spilled salt. And then Hina’s eyes fly open. She sits up straight on her kitchen stool and gasps.

“Ankh, are you asking because you think you’re—”

“Shut up.”

“You _are_!” She’s far too excited about this. “With who?”

“No one.”

“Don’t tell me!” She holds up her index finger. “Is it Chiyoko?”

“No.”

“Satonaka? She’s very pretty.”

“No.”

“You know I’ll figure it out. There’s nothing I can’t figure out. Besides, that’s my brother’s face you’re wearing. I’ll know. You can be as sullen and rude as you want, but if you look like Shingo, I can read you like a book.”

That can’t be true, Ankh thinks, but he leaves it alone. To be frank, he doesn’t care what Hina can and can’t read on his face, so long as she gives this a rest. _I shouldn’t have said anything_. Typical of a human to get like this over something as stupid as a feeling, as insubstantial as a single flake of snow. _If it’s stupid, why are you so upset?_ It’s ridiculous. Asinine. Ankh would sooner cut off his right arm than admit to Hina _or_ himself that he’s fallen in love with someone so idiotically human as Hino Eiji. If that’s even what this is. It could be anything else. Maybe he’s coming down with something—a fever, perhaps—and it’s taking its toll. Can he get sick? He hasn’t been in a human body long enough to find out if he can get sick. He can get hurt. Hell, he can bleed if he gets hurt badly enough and, if Shingo decides to be an uncooperative host, he can take a long time to heal. But he isn’t sure he can get sick. _Lovesick?_ Absolutely not. Greeed don’t get lovesick. As human as he may be at the moment, Ankh is still a Greeed.

“You tell anyone, Hina,” he growls, “and I’ll kill you. And them.”

Hurt flashes across her round, childish face. The part of Ankh that remembers being Shingo winces at a pang of guilt.

“I’m going now,” he says. As an apology, he puts his half-full cup of coffee in the sink.

-*-*-*-

Eiji wakes up at eight sharp, right when Chiyoko throws open the door to the restaurant with one of her horrifically cheerful greetings. Ankh covers his ears, grimacing, and hops up onto his nest. He refuses to call it a bed, let alone a lofted one. What the hell is a lofted bed, anyway, but a bed on sticks? To Ankh, a bed on sticks sounds an awful lot like a nest.

“Morning, Ankh,” Eiji mumbles. His hand drags across his eyes, rubbing away the last fog of sleep. Ankh digs his fingernails into his palm and pretends to look occupied counting his cell medals. Eiji repeats, “Good morning,” and Ankh pretends to hear him for the first time.

“You’re up,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. Eiji stretches, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto his bed.

“So are you. Have you seen Chiyoko yet?”

“No.”

Eiji rakes his hands through his hair, trying and failing to flatten it. “You know, Ankh, she’d really appreciate it if you got dressed up one of these days. Helped her out a little bit.”

Ankh rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his head. “Tch.”

“Don’t ‘tch’ me! She does so much for you. Don’t you think you should help?”

“No. I’m a Greeed. I don’t _help_.”

Eiji narrows his eyes, his lips pressed in a tight, thin line. “Ankh…”

_I don’t care_ , Ankh thinks. He says, “I don’t care.”

Eiji starts to get into his ridiculous costume, some sort of medieval farmer or something, complete with a pitchfork and a hooded cloak. The tunic underneath is patchy, somewhere between brown and green (maybe Chiyoko ran out of dye), and Eiji’s trousers reach halfway down his shins, at once unkempt and charming. His stupid grin makes Ankh’s blood boil, somewhere between rage and a surge of affection. He can’t snap at Eiji to get out of his sight without raising alarms, so he turns toward the wall and pretends to go back to sleep until Eiji is gone.

At half past nine, Ankh drags himself into the main dining room. Stupid human guilt or whatever. Still upset from earlier, Hina avoids his eyes, which suits Ankh just fine until Eiji notices and gives him a look of resigned disappointment.

“Ankh!” Chiyoko grabs his hands just a little too tightly. Her hands feel rough and uncomfortably hot. As she leads him to a solitary table in the back, Ankh feels that familiar jolt of electricity up his spine, digging its claws into the back of his neck and the soft skin behind his ears. He tears himself away from Chiyoko and searches for Eiji in the crowd, a task made simple by his ridiculous costume. This, Ankh decides, is the only time he’ll be grateful for one of Chiyoko’s creations.

“Eiji!” he snaps. “Let’s go.”

“What, now?”

“Now.” Ankh grabs Eiji by the wrist (the hand feels too familiar now) and hauls him toward the door, barely giving him enough time to make his excuses to Chiyoko before they’re out and running down the street.

The Yummy is a welcome distraction for Ankh. Running toward it, he relishes the cool fingers of wind on his face and in his hair, the quiet, rhythmic thud of his feet on the pavement (and Eiji’s behind him), and the swirling colors of the world melting away around him. He could run forever, but he and Eiji are in range of the Yummy too fast. Ankh summons what pathetic remnants he has of his Greeed body and throws Eiji three medals. Once they leave his hand, it’s like Ankh can barely keep himself awake, let alone on his feet. His legs give out underneath him and he hits the ground hard, but to his relief Eiji doesn’t seem to notice. Ankh can’t bear the humiliation and he can’t afford for Eiji to lose this fight. If Eiji can collect enough cell medals, then maybe giving away sixty percent won’t leave Ankh weak and defenseless this time.

An hour passes, then two, then three, and then Eiji is back beside Ankh, holding out a handful of cell medals. They’re enough that Ankh can stand again, though he has to lean against Eiji’s shoulder.

“Can you walk?” Eiji asks. Ankh wishes he could throw him off.

“Yes.” He’s not sure. His face feels hot and he knows Eiji can see how red he’s gotten.

“Do you have a fever?”

Ankh tries to push Eiji away, stumbles, and relents to letting Eiji support him again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Hina’s going to kill us,” Eiji groans. “She’s going to kill _me_.”

Much as Ankh hates to admit it, Eiji has a point. “Then let’s not let her see me like this.”

Eiji nods, looking like a puppy caught chewing the furniture. “If she catches us, I’m blaming you.”

“Tch.” Ankh digs his nails into Eiji’s shoulder. “Like I care.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback would be very much appreciated so I know where you all want this story to go. Next chapter will be a fun one, I think. (Maybe Chiyoko can convince Ankh to don a 'stupid costume' and help a bit around the restaurant in exchange for popsicles.)


	3. Chapter 3

Ankh doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Chiyoko figures it out (well, figures _something_ out, at least), but he is. He stands in the middle of the kitchen, halfway through unwrapping a lemonade popsicle (homemade by Hina, not that Ankh will admit how much he appreciates that), and stares.

“Huh?”

She reaches for his hands, something Ankh thinks she’s getting a little too comfortable doing. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promises, “but I want you to know you can talk to me whenever you’d like.”

 Pulling his hands back, Ankh denies having any clue what she’s talking about, snapping at her to leave it the fuck alone, leave _him_ the fuck alone. Why? What the hell does he have to be embarrassed about? That’s what this is, isn’t it—embarrassment? Ankh is embarrassed. Not only is he embarrassed, he’s _mortified_. Something about this feels very, very wrong, and it isn’t just that he’s a Greeed and Eiji’s a human, though that _is_ a big part of it. But some of this wrongness is human. As much as it pains Ankh, he considers Eiji his friend, and friends don’t have these sorts of feelings for other friends. Friends don’t dream about their friends and then spend every waking hour harping on imaginary confessions. Most recently, Ankh remembers a dream with Eiji’s hands in his hair, combing through it in a moment of peace and stillness. He can still feel that soft touch on his scalp, his cheek, the back of his neck.

 And Chiyoko is _still_ staring at him.

 “It’s nothing,” Ankh says. He blushes, another betrayal from his human body.

 “Of course.” Chiyoko turns to go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

 Ankh’s throat squeezes. “No, wait!”

 Chiyoko turns back and Ankh suddenly can’t think of what to say. He flounders, opening and closing his mouth around silent sputtering. Chiyoko gives him a sympathetic look, her eyes soft and kind. She does not reach for Ankh’s hand again, a small mercy, and Ankh does not back away from her.

 Finally, he says, “I don’t understand.” He hates the pity in her gaze.

 “You don’t have to. Ankh, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

 His eyes narrow. “Is it?”

 “Ankh, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

 He doesn’t like the way she keeps saying his name.

 “And,” she adds. “He’s a very lucky young man if he’s caught your attention.”

 Defeated, Ankh slumps into a chair at the kitchen table. He glances toward the door, making sure it’s shut tightly, and then puts his head in his hands, popsicle forgotten. _Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me,_ he prays as Chiyoko pulls up a chair next to him. She doesn’t. Ankh feels a surge of gratitude, warm like summer rain, but he can’t remember if this should make him smile. He doesn’t ask how Chiyoko knows. He doesn’t ask how _much_ Chiyoko knows. If she knows it’s Eiji, she keeps her mouth shut. Unable to find anything to say, Ankh picks up his lemonade popsicle, unwraps it, and shoves it in his mouth before putting his head back in his hands. The cold stings his teeth. _I don’t care._

 But he cares. He cares that Chiyoko keeps looking at him like he’s some wounded bird. Or a lost child in a big forest. He’s not. He’s neither of those things. He won’t be pitied. _I’m a Greeed, damn it!_

 “So,” Chiyoko starts. She’s smiling again. “What’s he like?”

 “What?”

 “What’s he like? You know, _him_ , the guy?”

 Ankh bites off half of his popsicle and chews. Anything to stall. “He’s human.”

 “Well, we’re _all_ human, Ankh.” Chiyoko laughs. “Where did you meet him?”

  _He was the first person I latched onto when I woke up after eight hundred years asleep. I needed him to be OOO so he could help me look for my core medals, which I need to be whole again. He’s bullheaded, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t do what I want him to, he’s stupid, and worst of all he’s so fucking human it makes my head hurt_.

 “I dropped something. He picked it up.”

 “And it was love at first sight?”

  _No. He annoys me. I hate the sight of his stupid face and I wish I could stop feeling these imbecilic human feelings and go back to what I was before I knew him. I don’t care if I never taste another popsicle again. I just want this to go away._

 “Don’t be stupid,” Ankh mutters. “There’s no such thing.”

 “What’s his name?”

 Ankh’s throat tightens, cold panic fluttering in his chest, rattling at his ribs like cage bars. He bites down on his popsicle and chews just for something else to do. He should tell her. He _wants_ to tell her. For some inconceivable reason, his stupid human heart wants him to tell her and get it done with, because he knows she’ll understand, he knows she won’t judge him, and he thinks that, maybe, she’ll know what he should do. But when he opens his mouth, there’s nothing. No sound, no breath, no words. He swallows, tries again, but to the same result: nothing.

 “Ankh?” Chiyoko asks, brows furrowed.

 “His name… I… He…”

 The door swings open. Ankh feels the noise in his bones. He jumps, whipping around hard and fast enough that his hip hits the corner of the table. That’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. In the back of his mind, he hears a familiar voice (he thinks it’s his conscience, but it might be some remnant of Detective Izumi) telling him he’s going to bruise, but he pushes it away. Because it’s Eiji. Eiji stands in the doorway, looking at him with those curious, wonderful eyes, and Ankh can’t find it in him to be angry.

 “Eiji,” he says, almost a whisper. In his periphery, he sees Chiyoko’s mouth fall open.

 Eiji yawns and stretches his arms over his head. “Ankh, Chiyoko, it’s great to see you guys getting along!”

“Tch.” Ankh crosses his arms. “Don’t get carried away.”

 He storms out of the kitchen without waiting to hear Eiji’s response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a question: What kind of relationship buildup do you all want? Chapters and chapters of pining with no expressed feelings or would you prefer feelings expressed clumsily earlier on and then strengthened and better expressed as time passes? Idk.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes another week for Ankh to realize he can’t do this. He can’t keep pretending he doesn’t have these stupid human feelings because of this stupid human body, but he can’t abandon this body if he wants to get his medals back. Either way, he loses. Either way, he has to make sacrifices, and he doesn’t like to make sacrifices. None of the Greeed do. It’s in the name, isn’t it? They want and take, but they never give or lose. But every second Ankh spends here, with Eiji but not _with_ Eiji, he loses just a little bit more.

All of this, Ankh decides, is Izumi Shingo’s fault. It’s Shingo’s body he’s borrowing. There has to be _something_ in his memories to explain, but every time Ankh tries to get in, Shingo puts up a wall. He isn’t usually like this. Although Ankh is less than welcome, Shingo has always given him the keys. Why not this time? _What are you hiding?_

Shingo does not answer. Fine. Like Ankh cares. Besides, it’s not like he and Shingo have particularly long and involved conversations. At most, this is an annoying obstacle. Whatever it is, Shingo will confess in the end. He always does.

The door opens. Ankh startles, almost pitching himself off his nest in a desperately _human_ attempt to appear casual (whatever _that_ is). But it’s only Eiji (whatever _that_ means), grinning like the Devil and carrying his shirt over one arm. For the first time, Ankh notices fresh, pink scars running down from Eiji’s shoulders to the small of his back, no doubt remnants from a fight with Kazari. He feels a pang of guilt and something else, something quiet and warm that springs from his chest into his throat. He wrenches his gaze away.

“Hey, Ankh!” Eiji says, casual as ever.

Ankh rolls his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re all right? I talked to Hina and she—”

Fast as lightning, Ankh sits up. “She _what_?”

“She said you’ve been cruel. Worse than usual. That you… you threatened to kill her?”

“So what if I did?”

Eiji’s sigh cuts through Ankh’s resolve like a red-hot knife.

“Ankh, you can’t just treat people like that. Especially not Hina. She’s letting you stay with Shingo because she cares about you, and this is _not_ how you repay her. Don’t you get it?”

_Of course._ “There’s nothing to ‘get.’ I’m here because I want to be here, not because some _human_ ‘lets’ me stay. She couldn’t expel me if she wanted to. She _wouldn’t_.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ankh!” Eiji sounds angrier than Ankh has ever heard him, his voice loud and high, almost biting. There’s an accusation in those words, lying in wait for Ankh like an adder in the grass, and (damn it to hell) he wants to walk toward it. “Ankh, you don’t get to decide these things by yourself, okay? This is a team. We’re a _team_. I don’t know if you Greeed really do teamwork, but if you’re going to work with me, you’re going to have to make some sacrifices.”

There it is again, that word: _sacrifices_. When will Eiji get it through his thick skull that Ankh is a Greed? He doesn’t make sacrifices, not now, not ever, and certainly not for a human! He’ll die before he does. At the rate they’re finding his medals, Ankh thinks that might be where he’s heading.

All he manages to say is, “Like I care!”

Suddenly and completely, silence falls over the room, like a rubber band stretched and suspended for far too long. Ankh feels Eiji’s eyes on him, hot with anger. A long moment passes, and then another, and then Eiji rakes one long-fingered hand through his hair. He looks exhausted—no doubt the purple medals taking their toll. If Eiji loses control of them… Fear runs down Ankh’s spine, freezing the blood in his veins.

“Eiji?” he murmurs. Eiji raises his eyes.

“Just tell me, Ankh,” Eiji begs. “Tell me so I can help you.”

_Fine_. Ankh jumps down from his nest, landing hard on his feet, and makes himself as tall as he can. “Tell you what? That I’m sick of being stuck in a stupid human body? That I’m sick of hurting? That I’m sick of searching and searching and not finding my fucking medals? That I’m sick and fucking tired of being exhausted all the time because we can barely find enough cell medals to keep me from losing my grip on this motherfucking arm, which is all I can fucking salvage of my body?”

Eiji flounders, his face drained of color. “No, that’s not, I didn’t…”

“Is _that_ what you wanted to hear, Eiji? Or would you rather we talk about my _feelings_?”

“That might be a nice start,” Eiji retorts, still scrabbling for footing in an argument quickly passing him by.

“Okay, then. Okay, we’ll talk about my feelings. I _feel_ like you’re doing everything you can to sabotage me. I _feel_ like we’re never going to find my medals and I’m going to waste away in this stupid detective’s stupid human body. I _feel_ like I hate asking Hina for permission to live in this body just because it belongs to her stupid brother, who—by the way—won’t shut up and let me into his memories so I can—”

“Wait, won’t shut up and…? Ankh, can you _talk_ to Shingo?” Eiji’s face lights up, turning the simmering rage in Ankh’s blood to a full boil.

“I can talk to Shingo!” he shouts. “Sometimes! Most of the time! But _this_ time, he won’t just shut up and let me look at whatever memories he has that might explain why I’ve fallen in love with a human—why I’ve fallen in love with a human like _you_!”

As soon as the words are out, Ankh’s heart drops into the soles of his shoes. Eiji stares and stares and Ankh’s face burns, though he can’t tell if it’s from humiliation, anger, or the sudden warmth of the room. He knows what Eiji’s thinking. Eiji’s thinking that, any minute now, he’d like to get the fuck out of here and run far, far, far away. He’s thinking that this is the single most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him. He’s thinking that this is ridiculous, that he should just leave and get his head together for another eight hundred years, that he ought to just give Hina back her brother and skip town without his medals.

_No,_ says Ankh’s conscience (which he now realizes is, at least in part, Izumi Shingo). _That’s what_ you’re _thinking_.

“I KNOW WHAT I’M THINKING!”

“Ankh?” This time, it’s Eiji, not Shingo. Ankh flinches back against the door, too shaky to find the doorknob and get out. He’s too far away from the window, too. And Shingo is _still_ thinking at him (albeit distantly) like some kind of devil on his shoulder, trying to convince him that everything’s going to be _fine_ if Ankh just stays and explains, but Ankh doesn’t _want_ to stay and explain. He’s never done this before. He’s never faced this kind of thing. He’s never been so completely and utterly _humiliated_ in his entire _existence_.

“Tch.” Ankh waves one hand, trying to come off as dismissive. “Not you.”

“Do you mean what you said? Are you really…?”

Frozen, Ankh struggles for something—anything—to make Eiji understand that he’s _not_ serious. He’s not really in love with him. But that would be a lie, and Ankh finds it harder and harder to lie to Eiji these days. Besides, the color of his face no doubt sells him out, even to clueless Hino Eiji. So Ankh puts his hands in his pockets.

“So what if I did?”

“So what if you… Ankh. _Ankh_. If you’re in love with me, that’s serious business. You know? Ankh, if you’re in love with me, that changes a lot. Are you sure?”

“No,” Ankh sighs, defeated. “Yes. It’s the only thing I’m sure of recently.”

“Oh. Wow. Ankh, I…”

“Quit saying my name like that. Chiyoko did it, too. She found out I was—”

“Gay?” Eiji suggests.

Ankh shrugs. “Is that what it’s called?”

“If you’re only interested in men, then yeah.”

“Right. Well. That.” Ankh points in agreement (at absolutely nothing). “Chiyoko kept saying my name like that.”

Eiji sits on the edge of his bed, looking unsteady and a little bit numb, and Ankh marvels at how quickly the anger has bled out of the both of them. “What do you want from me, Ankh?”

“I don’t know,” Ankh admits. “I’ve never been in love before.”

After a long pause, Eiji says, “Neither have I.”

“I… should go.” Ankh forces his legs to start moving, even though the rest of him wants to stay. He knows enough about Eiji to know that Eiji won’t have anything more to say now, if he ever does at all. He’ll sit on this like a bird on an egg until it hatches into something he can’t control. Then he’ll let it destroy the both of them.

_Now you mean the purple medals_ , Ankh’s conscience whispers. This time (he hopes) it definitely isn’t Shingo.

“Wait,” Eiji calls out, and damn him to hell, Ankh stops. “Ankh, I should tell you…”

“What?” Ankh wants to be prickly, fall back on old, comforting habits. 

"Nothing. Just... Thank you for telling me. It's better than keeping it bottled up, isn't it?"

"No."

And damn him, Eiji laughs. Ankh would kill to hear that laugh forever. "Do you want to talk some more, or...?"

"No."

"Do you want to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?"

Ankh scoffs. Typical human behavior, deflecting by offering caffeinated beverages. He kicks his heel into the floor. "What the hell would I do with coffee?"

Rolling his eyes, Eiji lies back on his bed and folds his arms behind his head. "I meant a date. Do you want to get coffee with me tomorrow morning  _as my date_?"

Ankh's mouth goes dry like sand. He swallows hard, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't get the words out. So instead he nods. Stupid, pathetic, useless human body. With an inward curse, Ankh thinks to himself (really to Shingo, if he's listening),  _You'd better help me or I swear..._ What should he do on a date? What do people talk about? Work? Ankh and Eiji already know everything about each other's work. What will Ankh have to do, be polite and sit at eye level with Eiji? He doesn't do polite and at eye level. He does haughty and several feet above. What if he messes up? What if... 

"You can really talk to Shingo?" Eiji asks, interrupting Ankh's downward spiral. Ankh nods again, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. 

"It's... not a perfect communicative arrangement, but it suffices." 

"Okay, then I want you to think of him as your chaperone. Like with school dances."

_I've never been to a school dance_ , Ankh thinks. He's never been to  _school_. 

"If the date goes well and I want to kiss you goodbye, I want to know that Detective Izumi isn't going to kill me in my sleep when you're done possessing him. It's only fair."

Ankh does his best not to roll his eyes. 

"Fine. I'll get him to write me a note."

"You don't have to."

_Yes, you do,_ says the part of Ankh's conscience that  _is_ Shingo.  _It's funnier if you do._

"Shut up," Ankh says, to no one in particular. "I'll bring you a note." 

"All right. One more thing?"

Ankh freezes with his hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"I want you to apologize to Hina." 

_God fucking damn it._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feelings! Clumsy feelings, but feelings nonetheless. Next up: Ankh is going to march his ass over to wherever Hina is and give her a HEARTFELT apology. Also, Shingo and Ankh DO have a line of communication. I'll establish more of what it is later on?


	5. Chapter 5

It’s simple enough for Shingo, Ankh, and Eiji to come to an agreement regarding Ankh’s stay in Shingo’s body. Unfortunately for Ankh, it means relinquishing control some days to allow Shingo time with his sister and time to explain why he’s been absent from his job, but Ankh finds it difficult to refuse when it’s Shingo’s only request. Ankh finds it harder to refuse when Shingo says Ankh can and _should_ explore the intricacies of human relationships, particularly the one Ankh _“so clearly covets with Hino Eiji_.” With an arrangement like this, Ankh thinks, it would be stupid to refuse. So he signs the contract (metaphorically speaking, of course) and gathers up the nerve to confront (apologize to) Hina in her workroom in the back of the restaurant.

“Hey,” he says. It’s what Shingo would say.

Startled, Hina looks up. The hope in her eyes makes Ankh’s stomach turn.

“I came to apologize.”

For a long minute (more like a century), Ankh thinks Hina will throw him out of the room. She has enough pins sticking out of the pincushion on her wrist to make a porcupine look like a kitten, so Ankh keeps his distance, sitting down across a pile of fabric from Hina. She stares at him, uncharacteristically cold and quiet, waiting.

“What I said the other day—”

“That you would kill me.”

“Right. I… I shouldn’t have.”

Hina sets down her sewing with a clatter of beads. “If that’s all you came to say, then—”

“I should go.” Ankh stands. “This was a mistake.”

But before he reaches the door, Hina calls, “Ankh, wait! I know why you said it.”

He turns back, his skin prickling with cold ( _fear_ ). “You do?”

“My brother… Can he hear me?” Hina asks. Ankh nods. “That’s okay. I need him to know. I’m not stupid.”

The words aren’t Ankh’s, but he hears himself say, “I never thought you were.”

“He always tried to keep me in the dark, like I wouldn’t have loved him just the same if he’d just told me. It was like a game sometimes, him trying to figure out how much I knew. And… I didn’t think you’d react like you did because that’s my brother’s face. I’ve never seen him so angry with me. Not once. I should have remembered.”

Ankh pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them so he’s curled in on himself. He feels safe this way, though he doesn’t know why or how. It’s a human comfort, like hot tea on a cold morning, or icy rain on a sweltering summer afternoon. Ankh never needed these comforts when he was just a Greeed, but now he wonders how he ever lived without them.

“You should tell your brother that yourself,” Ankh says, watching for Hina’s reaction. “We made a deal, him and I. Being in a human body, it’s been taking a toll on me, and I think I need to rest sometimes. When I do, you’ll have your brother instead of me, and I’ll be like…”

“His conscience?” Hina suggests, holding back laughter.

“His conscience,” Ankh agrees. “Barely. The devil on his shoulder, maybe?”

Ankh gets up once again to leave, only to feel Hina’s arms wrap around him, pinning his arms to his sides. To his surprise, he does not push her away. He doesn’t _want_ to push her away. Instead, he turns (carefully) and returns the hug, clumsily but wholeheartedly. Against his shoulder, he feels Hina start to cry, her breath warm and halting as she struggles for control. _So this is what it’s like to have a sister?_ Ankh leans his chin against the top of Hina’s head, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. Even this, he thinks, is better than being made of metal (and medals) and emptiness. This choking hand closed around his throat, the weight in his chest that he’s learned comes with crying (even happy tears), the arms wrapped around him tightly enough to hurt—this is what it means to be human. This is what it means to be a brother. This is why Ankh has to give Shingo back to his family, even if only for a little while at a time, until he can find enough power to make his own human body.

But eventually, Hina’s grip gets too strong, so Ankh gently pushes her away.

“Sorry!” she says.

_Ruffle her hair_ , says Izumi Shingo in the back of Ankh’s mind. Ankh does, ignoring Hina’s protests of, “I just brushed that!” and, “That’s not fair! You never let me touch your hair!”

*-*-*-*

By the grace of some higher being (not that Ankh believes in those sorts of things), Shingo’s presence in his mind goes dormant well before it’s time to meet Eiji outside the restaurant. Maybe it’s Eiji’s idea of a joke, but he insists on walking in together. They find a table in the back, far away enough from the rest of Chiyoko’s patrons that Ankh doesn’t feel claustrophobic, and Eiji ducks away to help Hina make some coffee. Restless, Ankh picks at a loose thread in the knee of his jeans, his mind running a mile a minute to figure out everything that can go wrong, everything he can do to mess this up.

Just Ankh’s luck, too, that Gotou is here. He gives Ankh a once-over that says everything Gotou is too polite to say out loud. Ankh folds his arms in front of his chest, anxious to make himself as small as possible until Gotou goes away, until the threat dissipates. Not that he considers Gotou a threat anyway. Gotou is human, hardly worth the time it would take to rip his head off.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The playful voice belongs to Eiji, who sits down and pushes a glass of iced coffee across the table to Ankh. Ankh takes a hesitant sip, but the drink is surprisingly good. Better cold than hot, certainly. (And better because Eiji made it.)

“Idiot,” he says. “You knew where I was.”

Eiji laughs. “I did. I really did. I guess I knew better than to try a line like that on you.”

Ankh’s shoulders tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Just that I knew you’d be here and that was a terrible icebreaker.”

“Oh.” Ankh takes another sip of coffee, feeling more idiotic than he’d care to admit. “It’s fine.”

“So I hear. Hina said you apologized this morning. And that she appreciates your arrangement with Shingo. I think it means more to her than she’s letting on.”

Ankh shrugs. “I need the rest. Besides, I’ll still be here.” He taps a finger to his temple. “Even when I’m not.”

Eiji frowns, his head tilting toward his shoulder in a way that makes Ankh’s heart skip a beat. “Wait… Really?”

“Yeah.” It takes a moment for Ankh to realize that Eiji wants to know about Shingo, whether or not he’s here with them now. When he does, he rolls his eyes. “He’s been quiet since this morning. Why? Do you need me to help you hide a body?”

Horrified, Eiji stammers, “What? No! Of course not!” before his eyes go wide and his face breaks into one of those beautiful smiles (the ones Ankh would destroy the world to see). Despite his attempts to hide it, Ankh smiles, too. This is nice, joking in the way humans do. Comfortable. Even comforting.

An hour and a half. That’s how long it takes for Ankh and Eiji to finish their coffee. At least half of that time is spent just talking, laughing, pointing out the sheer absurdity of some of the names of items on Chiyoko’s menu.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Eiji gasps between bouts of laughter. “What about the look on Kazari’s face when you punched his Yummy in the face?”

Ankh remembers that. He remembers it well because it was the first time he realized that punching things with a human fist caused pain. And with some distance between himself and that initial shock, Ankh even remembers it fondly as the moment he realized how much Eiji sacrificed daily to help him find his medals. How much Eiji had to lose and how little he had to gain.

But all he says now is, “Kazari’s makes the most pathetic Yummies.” He rubs the back of his hand absentmindedly. “I’m surprised it didn’t crumble right then and there.”

“It was brave of you, jumping in there without your armored body.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

Flustered and red-faced, Ankh waves dismissively and turns away. “Tch. You’d have done it.”

“But I’m an idiot.”

_Well played, Eiji_ , Ankh thinks. _Well played_. When it’s time to leave, Ankh thanks Chiyoko (something he still doesn’t understand the _why_ of) and lets Eiji walk him back to their shared room. Standing in the doorway, he feels another surge of nervousness, every bit as strange as it is thrilling.

“Thank you,” Eiji says. “I had a great time.”

Ankh’s face warms. He shoves his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wants to climb up into his nest, put himself high above Eiji and everyone else until his face stops burning. But he stays on the ground.

“I did, too,” Ankh admits.

Eiji shuffles his feet a little. Ankh sees the muscles in his throat and jaw move as he swallows his anxiety. And then Eiji leans forward, close enough that Ankh can feel strands of hair tickling his forehead, and asks, “Would it be okay to kiss you?”

Time stops as Ankh considers the fact that he’s never kissed anyone before, that this is Eiji, that this is something he can’t just rush into like he does everything else.

“Of course,” he says.

So Eiji kisses him, one hand coming to rest on Ankh’s shoulder, the other on his cheek. Ankh grips Eiji’s elbows, just barely, just because he doesn’t know what else to do, just because he’s too caught in the warmth and security of this one moment to care that it might not be the right thing to do.

Another piece of the ice around Ankh’s heart splinters and melts away.

The kiss ends too quickly. Ankh looks down at the ground and then back at Eiji through his eyelashes. “Well… Which one of us goes in first?” he asks. “Since we’re roommates and all?”

Eiji dissolves into giggling, his eyes filling up with tears of mirth. “You know, I have absolutely _no_ idea.”

All of a sudden bold, Ankh grabs Eiji’s hand and pulls him over the threshold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A date chapter from someone who has never been on a date. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half is from Shingo's perspective, the second from Hina's. Let me know if you'd like more chapters from differing perspectives. I'm explaining the "science" of how all this is going to work (Shingo having control of his body some days). And don't worry- Ankh and Eiji will be back and as cute as ever next chapter!

The first day Shingo spends back in control, he feels like his body doesn't belong to him. It's strange to wake up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room wearing unfamiliar clothes, but then he remembers that he's been in here this whole time, locked away behind a window, trapped. He remembers that, in a way, he has made a deal with the devil possessing his body. He remembers that, in a way, this devil has become part of his family, and that this devil (Ankh) is still in here somewhere, sitting behind that same window Shingo has sat behind for weeks and weeks.  _Good,_ he thinks.  _Maybe he'll learn a thing or two about manners while he's in the passenger seat_. 

In the bed by the window, Eiji stirs. As his eyes open, Shingo gives him a small, shy wave. "Hey." 

Eiji sits up straight, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "Detective Izumi?" he asks. 

"You can call me Shingo, you know." Shingo wrings his hands. God, it's nice to be able to do that again. He jumps down from the lofted bed (the  _nest_ ) and stretches out his arms, amazed at how easily all this comes flooding back to him after so long away. It feels right to stand on his own two feet for a change, even if it's only temporary, even if Ankh will be back at midnight like some kind of parasitic Cinderella. 

Eiji looks embarrassed. "Right. Shingo." His cheeks turn red and he tears his gaze away, toward the window, toward anything but Shingo's face. "I'm sorry. You look so much like—"

"Ankh," Shingo guesses. "But it's the other way around, isn't it? He looks so much like me." 

Eiji hovers between laughter and horrified silence and Shingo wonders if that was the right thing to say. He imagines Eiji must feel horribly awkward right now, and he has to admit that he feels awkward, too, given the circumstances. Given the fact that Eiji only knows Ankh, Shingo shouldn't be surprised that Eiji seems uneasy with him. Still, he wonders if he's said something wrong already. So he asks to see Hina. He needs to speak to her, sooner rather than later, just to be sure everything's all right. Just to be sure everything's going to stay all right.  _Just to be sure she's okay_. 

So Eiji takes Shingo to a room in the back of the restaurant that's full of fabric and a sewing machine and, half buried under a pile of work, Hina. She sees Shingo a moment after he sees her and her eyes light up, glistening with tears under the bright lights. She springs to her feet and throws herself into Shingo's arms, hugging him so tightly it hurts, and Shingo promises himself he won't let go until she does. For the longest time, they stand in the middle of Hina's workroom, hugging each other for dear life, and Hina's crying against Shingo's shoulder, and he remembers how she's fought to get him back. 

"Ankh said you'd come back," Hina sobs. "I didn't... I didn't think he meant today. I didn't think he would let you."

Shingo presses his cheek to the top of Hina's head, swallowing back a wave of tears. "Don't cry," he whispers. He can't bear to see his sister cry (he's never been able to). "It's okay. It's okay. It's all okay. It's going to be okay."

Finally, Hina lets go and Shingo can take a deep breath. His ribs hurt.  _I guess I forgot how strong she is,_ he thinks, and breaks into a bout of tearful laughter. Hina wipes her eyes on her sleeve, looking up at Shingo with wonder, bewilderment, and something softer (sadder). Shingo's heart breaks for her, for the knowledge that he'll have to go back to his window while Ankh uses his voice to snap at her. In the back of his mind, he hears Ankh the way Ankh must hear him:  _She pulled my ear, you know._

"Can I make you a cup of tea?" Hina asks. Shingo nods once, relieved to have a distraction for Hina while he thinks of something to say to her, something that won't hurt her feelings or betray her trust. He ignores the devil on his shoulder that says,  _She'll believe whatever you tell her._

"Tea would be nice. Thank you."

*-*-*-*-*

For an afternoon, Hina and Shingo can pretend they're like any other siblings. They drink their tea and then Hina takes Shingo to meet Chiyoko, because she knows Chiyoko will love him. (She's right.) 

"It's nice to meet you," Shingo says, shaking Chiyoko's hand while Chiyoko beams at him like he's an angel fallen out of the sky. 

"You really  _do_ look like Ankh!" she exclaims, studying Shingo's face. "If it weren't for your hair, you two could be twins!"

Hina pulls at her sleeves, praying Chiyoko won't put two and two together before she can come up with a reasonable explanation for why Ankh and Shingo look like replicas of each other. An explanation that  _isn't_ the truth. But Chiyoko only laughs and marvels at the similarities, from the way Shingo smiles to the shape of his nose and his narrow shoulders. Then she turns to Hina, marveling at how much they really look like brother and sister now that she sees them standing next to one another. 

"Aren't you two a picture?" Chiyoko puts her hands on Hina and Shingo's shoulders. "Your sister's a hard worker, Shingo. You should be proud of her."

Shingo smiles down at Hina. "I always am." 

The door opens and Eiji walks in, lingering for a moment too long as if he might turn and run away. But Hina holds out her hand to him and he crosses the room to her, holding out his hand for her to take as well. Hina sees Shingo raise an eyebrow, as if to ask whether anything is going on between Eiji and Hina, and Hina contemplates whacking him upside the head ( _lightly_ ). And then Shingo and Eiji lock eyes and Hina sees her brother blush (a rarity) and avert his gaze. 

"Oh, you two have met already?" asks Chiyoko. 

Eiji shuffles his feet awkwardly. "Once or twice. He, uh... I met him when..."

"When I was working. I had to ask him a few questions about a case."

"Yeah," Eiji agrees. "I didn't commit a crime or anything, just—"

"He was there. I... I think he was drugged. I-I, uh, don't really remember."

 _Is it just me or are they senseless idiots around each other?_ Hina thinks. It makes sense, at least as far as Eiji is concerned. Hina saw them on their date the day before. If Eiji is attracted to Ankh, it's reasonable for him to be attracted to Shingo. But Shingo is Hina's big brother and he's never expressed interest in  _anyone_ until now, making the idea that he might be interested in Eiji just...  _weird_. Hina decides to leave it alone for now. She can think about this tomorrow. Or never. (Now,  _never_ sounds like a great idea!) 

"Drugged?" Chiyoko asks. 

Eiji shrugs. "I guess. I wasn't really paying attention." He rubs the back of his neck, red-faced. "Detective Iz—I mean Shingo—probably remembers more than I do." 

Chiyoko pats Eiji's elbow, her brows furrowed in concern. "Oh, you poor thing! Well, whatever it was, it's fine now." 

With a sigh of relief, Eiji does what looks like his best impression of a bobblehead doll, nodding vigorously until Hina thinks his head might fall off. All the while, Shingo watches with an expression floating between disbelief and fascination. Hina can read her brother's face like a book, and now that he's done away with secrecy and hiding, she can see him warming up to Eiji the way Ankh, too, warmed up to Eiji. (Once again, it's a bizarre thought.) 

It only takes a few more minutes for Hina to notice weariness settling on her brother's face. As soon as there's a lull in the conversation, she finds a way to get him back to Ankh and Eiji's room, where it's quiet and solitary and where he can recuperate before going back out into the loud, chaotic world he's been absent from for too long. 

 _I wish tomorrow would never come_ , Hina thinks. As soon as she does, she knows that's not wholly true. She wishes her brother could stay forever, but... not if she loses Ankh for good. No matter how much she blames him, no matter how callous and unkind he can be, he's become something like a brother. He isn't Shingo—he'll never be Shingo—but he's family, too, and Hina won't lose him. 

_I wish I could fix them. I can't lose any more family. Not again._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a fight scene. It's less than pretty. As far as fight scenes go, though, it's pretty tame. 
> 
> We're back to Ankh's narration! (And some cute Ankh/Eiji stuff.)

Settling into a relationship (if that’s what this is) is more complicated than Ankh expected. When Shingo lets him back in control of his (their?) body, Ankh finds that things are different than when he left them. He’s missed a day and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

But Eiji makes things better. He always does. While Ankh changes out of Shingo's clothes (boring, plain, too straight-laced) and into his own (colorful, form-fitting, much more interesting), he feels Eiji come up behind him and wrap him in a warm hug, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. It tickles, but before Ankh can protest, Eiji says, "Good morning, you," and Ankh's resolve disappears.

"Good morning," he replies. "Did you have fun yesterday?"

"Hmm." It's a confirmation, and Ankh is surprised at the bitter taste that seeps into his mouth. "Did you sleep well?"

Ankh shrugs Eiji off of him, skin prickling. "I guess. Did you talk to Shingo much?"

Eiji raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a little smile. "A little. Why? Are you jealous?"

"Tch." Ankh tosses his hair out of his eyes. "Like I care." He sits down on Eiji's bed, cross-legged and cross-armed, and scowls down at the floor. If he stares for long enough, will the grain of the wood come to life and swallow him whole? History suggests that, no, they won't, so Ankh ventures a glance at up at Eiji's face. There's that smile again, at once lovely and infuriating. Ankh wants to ask Eiji if he missed him yesterday, but the idea is too embarrassing (too human). Instead he flops back on Eiji's bed and sighs.  _Don't be ridiculous. Nothing happened_. Ankh knows those thoughts definitely aren't his. 

"Ankh," Eiji says. Ankh refuses to look at him, but feels the bed dip as Eiji sits down. "It's okay to be jealous. I think I'd be jealous, too."

"You're attracted to him," Ankh argues. "Don't tell me you're not—I'm still a Greeed. I know you are."

Laughter is the last response Ankh expects, but that's exactly the response he gets. Eiji bursts into a peal of bright, jubilant laughter, and says, "Because he looks exactly like you!" 

Ankh looks up, his face warm. "Really?"

"Of course." Eiji reaches for Ankh's hand. Ankh laces their fingers together with a tiny smile, still reluctant (and embarrassed) to let Eiji see how much he enjoys this small, simple gesture of affection. But he moves closer to Eiji, turns so his head is in Eiji's lap, and lets Eiji stroke his hair. He's dreamed about this, hasn't he? It isn't anything like those dreams. Eiji's fingers are strong and steady, surprisingly gentle for all his clumsiness. 

"Can I kiss you?" Eiji asks. He asks that too much.

"Don't be stupid. Of course." 

Eiji leans down, pressing his lips against Ankh's, and Ankh closes his eyes. Eiji's lips are still warm, still smooth, and they taste a little bit like strawberries (lip balm, maybe). Resting one hand on the back of Eiji's neck, Ankh leans up into the kiss. He wants to stay here forever. Screw the Greeed and the Yummies and his core medals. Screw all of it. It doesn't matter as long as he can feel his heart pounding against his ribs and hot blood rushing to his face and neck. It doesn't matter as long as he can hear Eiji breathing, as long as he can feel Eiji's skin under his hand. This is what makes him human. To hell with his Greeed arm and all the rest. Kazari can have his victory for all Ankh cares. 

The door creaks. Ankh sits up fast enough that his forehead hits Eiji's (an unpleasant experience he will  _not_ be repeating). 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

Looking a little pale, Hina takes a step back and knocks. What a stupid thing to do, Ankh thinks, now that she's already ruined the moment. 

"I wanted to say thank you."

"Huh?"

"For my brother. It was nice spending time with him again. I'm glad I got the chance."

"Oh." Ankh feels Eiji elbow him in the ribs. "It's... nothing. You'll have him again soon." Another gentle elbow and he adds, "Thank you for allowing me to stay."

He hears Eiji chuckle (an awful word for an endearing sound). He's about to lie back down again when he feels a familiar shock of lightning down his spine.

"Eiji," he snaps. "A Yummy."

Eiji gets up, running his hands through his (perpetually) messy hair. "Where?"

"Let's find out." 

They take off running out the front door (Eiji refuses to use the window, no matter how convenient it is), barely pausing to say goodbye to Chiyoko. Gotou isn't there, which Ankh thinks means he must be looking for the Yummy as well with his ridiculous friend Date. Whatever. As long as Ankh and Eiji get to it first, Ankh doesn't give a damn. He wants to kill this stupid Yummy for ruining his morning. He wants to kill this stupid Yummy so he can stop feeling like he's fading. He wants to kill this Yummy so he has the strength to continue looking for a way to stay human  _without_ destroying Izumi Shingo and  _without_ destroying whatever it is he has with Eiji. (Without ruining the closest thing he's ever had to having a little sister if he takes Hina's real brother away from her.) 

But it's not just a Yummy they're fighting. It's never just a Yummy anymore. It's Kazari, standing there in his stupid human disguise like he knows the first goddamn thing about being human, sneering at Ankh like he's better than him just because he's got his whole Greeed body.  _If he only knew_ , Ankh thinks.  _He wouldn't be so smug._  

"Well, well," says Kazari, his voice quiet and melodic, almost breathy. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Ankh wants to vomit, though he isn't sure he actually  _can_. "By 'the cat,' I assume you mean yourself."

"Naturally."

"You make me sick."

Kazari laughs, more like a giggle, and flexes his claws (which Ankh thinks look more like cheap garden rakes). "Oh, I'm  _hurt!_ Is that really what you think of me?"

Ankh won't fall for this game. He won't fall for any of Kazari's games anymore. "Eiji!" He throws Eiji three medals and steps back. He'll watch from here, thank you very much, where he won't get hurt. (Where he won't damage the body he's borrowing, much as it pains him to admit he cares.) 

Watching Eiji transform doesn't usually have an effect on Ankh, but this time it sends a thrill of fear through his veins, cold and smooth as quicksilver. If Eiji gets hurt...  _No. He won't get hurt._ If anyone can defeat Kazari's Yummy, it's Eiji. If anyone can defeat Kazari... It has to be Eiji. They don't have a choice. It's Eiji or it's Date, and Ankh doesn't think Date has it in him to fight Kazari. At least not yet. Besides, if Ankh lets Date at Kazari's Yummy, then Date will take the cell medals, leaving Ankh weakened and pathetic. 

But Eiji falters and Kazari is too strong. Ankh watches helplessly as Kazari throws Eiji into a wall, holding him up by his throat while Eiji struggles, a desperate (hopeless) fight for breath (for life). Ankh feels his heart in his throat, tastes metallic fear on his tongue, and throws himself forward. He ignores the voice in the back of his mind shouting at him to stop and think. There's nothing to think about when Eiji's life is in danger. There's nothing to think about when Ankh needs to help him. Thinking can wait until later. 

"Kazari!" Ankh shouts, summoning his Greeed arm. When Kazari turns, he strikes him across the face, pleased at the clang of metal on metal. His human shoulder stings at the impact, but he strikes again, again, again, until Kazari starts to fight back. The first blow to Ankh's face sends him reeling, pain splintering across his cheek like cracks in ice. The second he's ready for. He catches Kazari's fist, his own hand slick with blood (is that his?), and ducks underneath the slashing claws, puts himself between Kazari and Eiji. Kazari lashes out again, hitting Ankh across the face again, and Ankh has to spit out blood (definitely his). 

"Oh, I see..." It's a taunt. Ankh bristles at the laughter behind it. "Very interesting." 

Dazed, Ankh swallows another mouthful of blood. It's disgusting. "Get out of here. I'm warning you."

Kazari takes a step forward. This, too, is a taunt. Kazari and Ankh both know that Ankh can't do anything if Kazari really wants him dead. He's not strong enough (yet). He's not used to getting hurt in a human body, to blood in his mouth and bruises on his skin. 

But Kazari doesn't lunge. He doesn't strike again, only turns his back to Ankh. "I'll be seeing you." 

And he's gone. Just like that, he's gone. Ankh falls to his knees, dizzy and in excruciating pain. When Eiji's arms wrap around his waist, hauling him to his feet, he  _hears_ the pain in his ears, tastes it in his mouth. He grabs hold of Eiji's sleeve, keeping himself steady on his own two feet. Eiji's fingers prod at the cuts Kazari left on Ankh's cheek, and Ankh has to push him away. 

"Don't touch that!" 

Eiji looks stricken and bloodless. "I'm sorry!" 

Ankh shakes his head. Even that hurts. "It's fine."

"What do you think Kazari was after?" Eiji asks. "He didn't stick around long, did he?"

"There are a thousand things Kazari might want," Ankh says. "None of them are any good."

Concern flashes in Eiji's eyes. "Come on." He holds out his arm for Ankh to lean on. "Kazari can wait. That might need stitches." 

Ankh wrinkles his nose, sending little sparks of pain across his face. "So what?" 

"We'll have to call Date. If you won't go to a hospital, maybe he can have a look."

"Absolutely not." 

"Ankh..." 

A single look and Ankh's resolve crumbles. He lets Eiji kiss his forehead (his lip feels like it's been cut by Kazari's claws). "Fine. You owe me an ice."

 


	8. Chapter 8

True to his word, Eiji buys Ankh an ice for his cooperation, and Ankh sits and endures the humiliation of Date poking and prodding at his injuries. He wants to kick them all away from him, climb up to his nest, and hide until he feels better. He can't stand being fussed over. Besides, whatever Date uses to clean the wounds  _hurts_. Eiji keeps wishing aloud that Ankh would agree to go to an actual hospital with a properly sterile environment, but there's no way in hell Ankh is leaving the comfort and familiarity of this room, not when he's irritable and tired and in so much pain it feels like his skin is melting off. As Date peels back the makeshift bandage on Ankh's cheek (a torn piece of Eiji's shirt, just to stop the bleeding), Ankh flinches, surprised at how much more these human nerves can spark and flair at a single touch. But a second later, Eiji takes his hand, and Ankh almost forgets how sick and hurt he feels. 

Date glances at Ankh and Eiji's intertwined fingers, nods once, and returns to his work on Ankh's cheek. "I heard you two were, you know, _you two._ "

"What about it?" Ankh snaps. There's a tugging sensation on Ankh's face as Date closes the cleaned wound with what he calls butterfly bandages; it's enough to shut him up. The familiar warmth of Eiji's shoulder against his is all that's keeping Ankh from bolting, and Eiji's unoccupied hand rests on Ankh's knee, equal parts keeping him steady and keeping him in place while Date works. The heat trickling through Ankh's chest... It's gratitude, isn't it? There's too many human emotions to keep count of them all, but Ankh thinks he knows this one. 

He hates it. 

Even with the worst of the wounds closed, Date won't let Ankh climb to his lofted nest, so Ankh lies down on Eiji's bed. With a tentative look at Date, Eiji pulls up a chair to sit next to the bed, but Ankh grabs his elbow and pulls him onto the blankets. 

"No," he says. "I'm cold."

It's true. He's shivering and he hurts and he just wants Eiji to hold him, as stupid and human as that is, because he feels safe with Eiji and because Eiji's arms are warm and secure. Eiji settles down on top of the blankets, careful not to touch Ankh's injuries, and lets Ankh curl up against his chest. 

"You," Ankh says, pointing at Date, "can get lost now."

Eiji whispers, "Please."

"Please," Ankh repeats. He hates manners. When Date leaves, he tucks his head under Eiji's chin, a silent request for Eiji to stroke his hair. Eiji does, his fingers pleasantly cool as they brush against Ankh's forehead. Despite his insistence that he doesn't care, Ankh worries what Shingo's silence means now. Is he hiding from the pain of the fight? Has Ankh made a grievous error? Will Hina force him out for this, or will she understand that what Ankh did, he did to protect Eiji? He can't voice these concerns, not when it hurts to blink, not when Eiji's hand in his hair has already put him half to sleep. But in his haze of agony and exhaustion, he thinks that Hina would have done the same thing to protect Eiji. And she's only human. Ankh wonders if he ever felt like this when he was a Greeed through and through.  _Never._ There's something about this fierce, fiery anger in his chest that he's never felt. Is it because his anger comes from love? Is it because Kazari threatened someone he loves? 

"You sure you can sleep like this?" Eiji asks. Ankh nods, curling his hand into the loose fabric of Eiji's shirt. Eiji's arms around his waist reassure Ankh, like everything's going to be okay if he can just stay here, warm and comfortable. Once the painkillers Date's given Ankh kick in, it takes him a matter of minutes to fall asleep. 

*_*_*_*_*_*

While Ankh sleeps, Eiji daydreams. He's too nervous to fall asleep himself, but he enjoys the sound of Ankh's steady breathing, the weight of Ankh's head on his chest, and the hand still tangled in his shirt. It's enough for him, simply knowing that Ankh is safe and sound, healing. 

"May I come in?" Hina hovers in the doorway. Eiji sees her eyes dart from him to Ankh and back again. 

Eiji waves her in, careful not to wake Ankh. "Of course."

"How is he?"

"He... I think he saved my life."

A smile spreads across Hina's face, slow and sweet like honey. But underneath that smile lies concern—for Ankh or for her brother or for both? She hugs herself, hands clasping her elbows, and looks down at her feet. She reminds Eiji of a statue with how still she stands. 

"How is he?" she asks again, more insistent than before. 

"Fine. He's going to be fine. Shingo, too."

Hina sits in the chair next to Eiji's bed. Eiji wishes he could wipe the troubled expression from her face, replace it with happiness, or at least with some kind of peace. He reaches for her hand and she lets him hold it. 

"We need to find a way to put Ankh back in his own body." It's a statement, clean and cool, and Eiji imagines the implications of it. Expelling Ankh from Shingo's body, putting him back into his own, will mean the end of Ankh as Eiji and Hina know him. Ankh in his Greeed body (if it's even out there) will be strange and estranged, a far cry from who he's become, from who Eiji wants to see him as. Even now Ankh struggles to fit in among humans, finding their ways and wants bizarre and pointless. But through it all, Eiji sees behind the disguise. Ankh is as scared as the rest of them, maybe more so. Every experience is new and exciting. That kiss they shared outside their room? Eiji thinks of it fondly as one of the better first kisses he's had—maybe even the best first kiss—but for Ankh... That was Ankh's first kiss  _ever_. This relationship is Ankh's first. Eiji is Ankh's first step into the complicated, the frightening, and the wonderful. It's a terrifying notion, now that Eiji really gives it some thought. 

He says, "He won't go back to being a Greeed, Hina. Not anymore."

"Then we make him a body."

"Is that possible?"

Hina shrugs, pensive. "If it isn't, we make it possible." She doesn't wait for Eiji's response before leaving, and Eiji doesn't call for her. 

Curled against Eiji, Ankh stirs. He lifts his head, winces, and lets it fall back again. Eiji sees pain in his eyes, misted over from sleep. Feather-soft blond hair covers one eye, only a little disheveled, and the setting sun turns his face into smooth, carved marble. Looking into Ankh's eyes, Eiji feels like he's falling. Untethered, desperate for a handhold, he sees the battle inside, the relentless clash between anger, desire, contempt, and the newer, milder side to Ankh that Eiji thinks even Ankh doesn't understand. There's love there, and doubt, and compassion. There's a will to live, to be something more than metal and magic, to be something—some _one_ —who can say he lived rather than existed without it being a lie. Eiji likes this Ankh. Something more than  _likes_. 

"Thank you, Ankh," Eiji murmurs.

Ankh closes his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, teeth gritted. "Tch. Remind me not to do it again." He presses closer to Eiji, strands of his hair tickling Eiji's face, and says, "He knows."

"Knows what?"

"About...  _this_." There's a venom to the last word:  _this_. In it, Eiji hears the depths of Ankh's fear. "He'll come after you again. He won't stop until he's taken everything from me—that bastard!" 

There's more to this than Ankh is letting on, Eiji can tell, but he doesn't pry. When Ankh wants to talk, he'll talk, and not a moment before. Instead, Eiji sits up and reaches for his shoes. Brows furrowed, Ankh sits up, too. 

"Where are you going?"

"To get you some ice."

"Ice?" Ankh's hopeful eyes are enough to melt Eiji's final resolve. He means ice for the bruises darkening on Ankh's shoulders and arms, but Eiji can't resist that face, especially when Ankh gives him a small smile. 

"I'll get you an ice, too. Lemonade?"

"Mmhm."

"Try to get some more sleep, yeah?"

"Will you be here?"

"If that's what you want." Eiji nods. "Yeah."

"You'd better not be gone too long!" Ankh yells as Eiji starts to leave for the kitchen. Eiji turns back, laughing. 

"Like you'd risk letting Chiyoko see you in this state to come after me!" he calls. He doesn't stick around to hear the creative way Ankh strings together the foulest words he knows. 

The last thing he catches before the kitchen door swings shut is, "MOTHERFUCKER!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think/what you'd like to read!


	9. Chapter 9

The nightmares come suddenly and cruelly, without warning. Ankh wakes himself up screaming, his eyes too full of tears to see in the darkened room, struggling against the strong arms holding him still. He remembers his dream in bits and pieces, like glass shattered across pavement. When he closes his eyes, he sees Eiji submerged in a river of violet, staring right through Ankh with cold amethyst eyes. He feels Eiji's hands on him, reaching for the medals inside his chest as he fights. He's not strong enough. He'll never be strong enough. Whatever those purple medals want, they'll devour Eiji whole. A trickle of ice runs down Ankh's neck, burning the skin it touches, and Ankh wonders if this is what humans mean by  _waking in a cold sweat_. 

It takes too long for Ankh to stop screaming. By the time he does, his throat is a strange balance between numb and raw, and he's shivering. The arms around him... they're Eiji's, aren't they? And that's Eiji's voice pleading with Ankh to tell him what's the matter, how to help. 

"Eiji?" Ankh whispers. He hates how broken he sounds.

Eiji's hands run up and down Ankh's arms, warm enough to stop some of the shaking. "I'm here," Eiji murmurs. "I'm right here."

Ankh turns, presses his forehead against Eiji's, and sobs. Is it relief? He can't tell anymore. Everything feels the same, embittered by sharp terror. As Eiji's fingers comb through his hair, Ankh fights against the rising panic in his chest. 

"Ankh," Eiji says, his voice quiet but firm. "You're okay. You're safe. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now."

A tear splashes on Ankh's cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the rest of them back. "Eiji..." It's all he can say. 

"You're safe," Eiji says again, and Ankh feels his whole body breathe a sigh of relief. If Eiji says he's safe, he will make himself believe. 

Pressing his face into Eiji's neck, he manages to say, "Promise me... Those medals... You won't..."

"I promise. They can't control me," Eiji reassures him. His arms close around Ankh's waist again, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I swear, Ankh, I won't let them take over."

Ankh swallows the remainder of his tears. Half-blinded still, he reaches for Eiji's face, for a kiss to remind him everything is all right. To Ankh's relief, Eiji accepts this rare initiation of affection without question. Ankh expects him to ask why, or to suggest that they talk more about the nightmares, but Eiji simply takes Ankh's face in his hands and returns the kiss. 

Ankh's eyes drift shut. This time, he does not see his nightmares. 

*-*-*-*-*

Ankh doesn't remember falling asleep a second time, but he wakes to sunlight streaming in through the window. Next to him, Eiji sleeps soundly. Ankh sits up and traces the tips of his fingers over Eiji's face—his nose, his cheekbones, his mouth. Even Eiji's eyelids, which are soft and fluttering like butterfly wings. Warmth wells up in Ankh's chest, filling his throat with that same feeling he gets when he's about to cry. He doesn't understand it, but he doesn't mind it either. As long as Eiji is here, as long as Eiji is safe...

Eiji's eyes open just as Ankh moves to lie down again. He says, "Morning."

Ankh repeats, "Morning." His voice is quiet and a bit raspy. He clears his throat and tries again to the same result. 

"I'll make you some tea," Eiji says, propping himself up on one elbow so he can run the other hand across Ankh's cheek. "You probably screamed yourself hoarse. Those sounded like nasty dreams."

Underneath Eiji's light tone, Ankh hears concern. He shrugs it off. 

"Tch. I can't remember." Lies. He remembers them all. But before Eiji asks anything more, Ankh kisses him, and that seems to do the trick until Eiji suggests they get up and start their day (an idea Ankh does  _not_ like). 

"Come on, Ankh," Eiji pleads. "What time is it anyway?"

Ankh shrugs. "Don't know, don't care. Comfortable." 

"Yeah, but I've got a job."

Even Ankh finds that hard to argue with, so he gets out of bed and waits the painfully long while it takes Eiji to find his second shoe. By that time, Ankh is already dressed for the day and perched on the window-seat, peering at the street below. The neighbor's cat is back, pacing in a way that reminds Ankh of Kazari, slow and graceful like it has all the time in the world. Like it hasn't got a care in the world, either.  _I hate cats_ , Ankh thinks. For the first time since his injury, he hears Shingo telling him to be nice. 

_Cats aren't cats on purpose._

What a ridiculously  _Shingo_ thing to say. 

"That cat," Ankh decides, "is up to something." 

He feels Eiji lean over him to look out the window, and then Eiji says, "It's a cat."

"And it's up to something. I don't trust cats." 

Eiji laughs, squeezing Ankh's shoulder. "Is this about Kazari or you being a bird?"

"Tch. I'm not a bird." 

"Last I checked, you are." Eiji's lips press against Ankh's cheek, letting him know that Eiji's only teasing. This is the sort of quiet reassurance Ankh likes, without words to complicate matters or to second guess. It's as simple as it is sweet.

So Ankh gets brave. As Eiji turns toward the door, Ankh's hand flies out and catches his wrist, spinning Eiji back to face him. He presses his back against the cold glass of the window, comforted to know that he can get outside easily. In Eiji's eyes, Ankh sees that worry he hates. He wishes he could fix it, though there's a part of him that knows worry isn't something he can just...  _fix_. 

"I dreamed that..." His voice breaks. "Eiji, I dreamed that I lost..."

"Ankh?" Eiji turns his wrist so he and Ankh are holding hands. 

Ankh takes a deep breath, blinking away the last fog of fear. "I dreamed that I lost you. To the medals. You drowned in them, lost yourself in their power until you weren't... you weren't human anymore. You weren't Eiji. You were just... those medals. When I looked into your eyes, there was nothing. No love, no hate, no desire, no joy. You weren't anything anymore. You were... you were like me. Like I was. Before... before..."

Eiji's fingers tighten around Ankh's. The look on his face flickers between pain and determination. Ankh can almost taste the way Eiji's heart is breaking— _For me,_ he thinks.  _I've done this_. 

"Before you took this body," Eiji finishes, and Ankh nods. A tear rolls down his cheek, hot and stinging. 

"I won't go back to that," he vows. "I can't go back to that. Eiji, I've been human—or close to it—long enough that it finally makes sense. I used to think that I could feel, that I knew what you humans go through, just because I watched you all go through it. But I was wrong. We were all wrong. And I won't be like that ever, ever again."

"Ankh..." Eiji whispers, his tone dangerously near to pity. 

"Promise me you won't let those medals take you. I can't watch that. I can't watch you lose everything that makes you Eiji. Everything I... Everything that makes you the person I  _love_."

A strange word, isn't it?  _Love_. It rings through the room like the chime of a bell. It's a word that echoes under Ankh's skin, in his blood and bones. More than just a word. More than anything he's ever felt before. And, new to emotion as he is, Ankh knows how important this word  _love_ is... And how terrifying. He knows it's different now than it was before, when he first admitted to falling in love. It means more now that Ankh has learned Eiji. He's learned his secrets, his fears, his hopes, and he's learned that each of those makes up a part of the  _Eiji_ he loves. 

To say it out loud is terrifying. 

After a stretch of silence, Eiji kisses Ankh's forehead.

"I promise," Eiji says, soft as a confession. "I love you, Ankh. I won't let the medals take that away from me, I swear."

Ankh only hopes this promise is one that Eiji can keep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I'll be getting into some alchemical stuff next chapter, I think, so be ready for that.


	10. Chapter 10

Courage takes time.  _I don't have a lot of that_ , Ankh thinks, staring out the window with that awful, familiar sinking feeling in his chest that something is about to go terribly, irreparably wrong. Fear crawls under his skin like ants, an uncomfortable reminder that the other Greeed are closing in. Uva, no doubt, is planning some new horror for Ankh, and Kazari almost certainly has one of his plans in motion. Gamel may be a moron, but he's strong, and that's something Ankh doesn't have on his side right now. Without Mezool to reel him in, Gamel's as good as a landmine ready to detonate. That, too, frightens Ankh more than he'd like. 

Some distractions help more than others. Ankh finds that, out of all of them, Eiji is his favorite. 

"Are you planning on getting up anytime today?" Eiji asks. He's standing in front of the window, sunlight shining like a halo around his face. Ankh stretches out in his nest, then curls up and tucks his arms under his head. 

"I'm comfortable," he says, but Eiji laughs and Ankh finds himself unable to resist jumping down from his nest and kissing that stupid grin off Eiji's face. Eiji's hands wrap around his waist, warm and strong and steady.  _I could kiss him forever_. But eventually, Ankh's stupid human body needs to breathe. He settles for leaning his forehead against Eiji's and wrapping his arms around Eiji's neck. 

One of Eiji's hands brushes across Ankh's cheek, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. "You're awfully affectionate today," he notes. Quickly, as Ankh starts to pull away, he adds, "Not that I mind."

Ankh smiles. He's getting used to smiling, much as it pains him to admit it. "Idiot."

This time, Eiji kisses the smile off Ankh's face. 

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

"How is this going to work?" Ankh asks.

He's been staring at this stupid piece of paper for the better part of an hour and he still doesn't have a clue what it means. All he knows is that Hina seems ridiculously excited about it, which is enough to make Ankh nervous. The writing isn't in Japanese or German or any language Ankh understands and Hina holds the translation close to her chest, well aware that Ankh won't try to grab it from her. He's learned his lesson by now. 

"It's alchemy," Hina explains. "Shouldn't you know a little bit about it?"

Ankh shrugs. It's not like he paid attention when he was created. It's not like he'd had a mind with which to pay attention—definitely not the way he does now. One moment he was nothing, and the next he was something. What more is there for him to know? Why should he care? 

"Like I care," he snaps, more than a little embarrassed. "I'll kill you before I let you make any more Greeed."

To Ankh's horror, Hina looks frightened and dismayed. Her face drains of color as she stares at Ankh with those big, round eyes, and Ankh feels the irresistibly human need to apologize. He resists. 

"Ankh," Eiji murmurs. "She's trying to help you."

_Right,_ Ankh thinks.  _She's helping her brother._

In the back of his mind, Shingo says,  _Behave_. 

"Oh, you shut up!" Ankh bangs the heel of his hand on the table, making Hina and Eiji jump. "Not you two.  _Him_." 

Wide-eyed, Hina stares at Ankh, no doubt searching for a sign of her brother besides Ankh's outburst. Even Ankh knows he's not the most reliable of narrators, even (or especially) when it comes to Hina. He wants to consider her his ally. The Greeed have allies, after all. Still, despite himself, he considers Hina his family, his little sister of sorts, and it makes his blood boil. 

_Did Mezool bleed when she died?_ Ankh shudders, wrapping his arms around himself, but it's not enough warmth. The doors and windows are all shut tight, but Ankh feels a chill in the air nonetheless.

And then, all of a sudden, it's too much. Ankh stumbles; his back hits the wall; he falls. There's nothing he can do. He hears Hina shouting his name, feels Eiji's hands on his shoulders, senses Shingo's worry in the back of his mind, but none of it makes a dent in the whirlwind surrounding Ankh. He looks toward the window before he remembers it's shut and locked. He can't escape. There's nowhere to go. 

"Ankh!" 

Ankh looks up at Eiji, dazed and afraid. He tries to explain that he can't breathe, that he can't see, that he can't feel anything but this horrible, blind terror. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare and it will be over soon. It will be over. It has to be over. All nightmares end. They have to end. If this doesn't end, Ankh thinks he'd rather die. He might be dying anyway. If he can't get a grip on himself, he'll get himself killed. He'll get Eiji and Hina killed, too, and Chiyoko. He'll get everyone he cares about killed like Mezool.  _Mezool_. He can see her if he closes his eyes, holding out her hand to Gamel like a mother with her child. All she ever wanted was to be a mother and now she's dead. 

"I can't..." He swallows the next wave of panic. "Eiji, I don't..."

And then it's gone. Quiet. He's back in Hina's workroom with Eiji's arms squeezing his shoulders. It almost hurts, but Ankh can't bring himself to ask Eiji to let go. He doesn't want Eiji to let go. In the corner, Ankh sees Hina covering her eyes. Ankh wonders if it's worry for him or Shingo that has her so afraid. 

"What...?" Ankh leans his head on Eiji's shoulder. He knows he's shaking, but he's too numb to feel it. He's too numb to feel anything. "I don't... understand..."

Warm hands cup his face, chasing away the cold. Ankh wishes Eiji would wrap him in another hug, but this, too, is a comfort. He sinks into Eiji's familiar touch, closing his eyes just before tears start to fall. 

"We'll figure it out," Eiji says. "Promise. Hina isn't making more Greeed, okay? She's making you your own body. Human, Ankh. She's going to make you human."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting! It was a little hard writing this because I drew on my own experience with panic/anxiety attacks, which ended up being harder than I expected. But it's up now and we're getting somewhere plot-wise! Let me know what (or whom) you want to see more of.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to "Les mots que l'on ne dit pas" from 1789 on instant replay while I wrote this. The lyrics are just too perfect. "I have before me the life I don't dare [live]. Deep down, the desires I leave there. I hear them singing in my nights—the words we don't say." (That's my two-second translation, so don't @ me about mistakes.)

On the first truly chilly September night, Ankh wakes once again to the sound of screams. His own screams. He hasn't been in control for a week now, giving Shingo a chance to catch up with Hina, and he won't ever get used to these damn nightmares. It doesn't matter how much time he spends in a human body. Every single one seems worse and infinitely more frightening than the last. Around his waist, Eiji's arms feel like an iron trap.

"Eiji!" Ankh snaps, though he sounds more frightened than annoyed. A rough shove to the shoulder and Eiji is awake. "Off! Get off of me!"

Mercifully, Eiji lets Ankh go and scrambles off the bed. Toward his nest or the window—doesn't matter as long as he gets the hell to safety. No. No, he's safe here with Eiji. He's safe here with Eiji. More than that, he's strong with Eiji. Stronger than he ever was alone. Strange as it is, Ankh considers his time with the other Greeed to be time alone. What do they know of togetherness when all they do is follow their incessant wants like pigeons fighting over spilled kernels of corn? Ankh was alone with them. Ankh was alone when he woke up. He was even alone those first few months here with Eiji and Hina and Chiyoko, despite their best efforts to make him feel at home. But now, Ankh thinks, he isn't alone. 

"Eiji?" he says, softer this time, reaching out in the dark for Eiji's hand to hold. 

"I'm here," Eiji replies. His hand finds Ankh's, soft and warm and reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere."

Ankh finds his way back to the bed, back to Eiji's arms. He feels stupid now that the nightmare has passed. 

"What did you dream about?" Eiji asks. Ankh doesn't want to say. How can he muster up the courage to say what he's seen in his dreams? Kazari's talons have already torn Eiji into shreds thousands of times. What's one more night?

"Idiot." His voice shakes a little less this time. "Talk tomorrow. Sleep now." 

An hour passes and Eiji falls asleep almost too easily, but who is Ankh to complain when Eiji looks like an angel in the moonlight? Of course, that's ridiculous. There's no such thing as angels. But if there were angels (there aren't), Eiji would be one of them. 

"Idiot," Ankh says again, though he knows Eiji won't hear him. For good measure, he presses a kiss to Eiji's forehead. "I love you."

It is difficult for Ankh to explain how he feels. He feels so many things. He feels lingering fear from his nightmares, warmth from Eiji's skin and from the pajamas Eiji has coaxed him into ("They're more comfortable than sleeping in normal clothes, Ankh..."), and an overwhelming fondness for Eiji. Even to himself, Ankh can't explain that fondness. His heart picks up when he sees Eiji. How is he supposed to describe that feeling to someone who has never seen Eiji the way Ankh sees Eiji? How can he tell someone just how happy it makes him to see Eiji smile, or how musical Eiji's laugh sounds, or how beautiful the world looks with Eiji in it? This dreary, painful human world that Ankh wants to loathe—he can hardly convince himself of its beauty. How should he convince someone else?

Eiji sleeps peacefully and Ankh says again, "I love you." The words taste strange and sweet, like strawberry ice.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. I've been having a bit of a rough time and I had a bit of "Kamen Rider" specific writer's block, which I think is starting to go away.
> 
> There's very brief mention of self-harm, but not the sort that stems from depression. Just a dumbass doing alchemy the hard way because he's afraid of needles.

As the days grow colder, the nights longer, Eiji notices Ankh begin to retreat into himself. He seems restless and impatient, as if he's searching for a way out, and Eiji tries not to let that sting too much. This is only temporary. As soon as the weather warms, Eiji's sure he'll have his Ankh back, right as rain. It's a bird thing. It's got to be a bird thing. Don't birds go off somewhere warm in the winter? Isn't Ankh a bird? He's at least bird _like._ Eiji would have to be an idiot (a real one) not to notice that about him. Even his  _hair_ is styled almost like feathers, which Ankh denies and Eiji dutifully tries to ignore (until Ankh leaves earshot). And—

"And he does that thing!" Hina interrupts. "You know, gets all haughty and rude if we let him perch too high up."

She's right. 

"Like a cat," Eiji says, laughing. "Except he hates cats."

"Bet that's why cats don't get along with birds. They're too similar."

The door to Hina's workroom swings open and Ankh approaches the table. He has a bandage wrapped tightly around his pointer and middle fingers of his left hand and offers the contents of his other hand to Hina: a tiny vial of... is that  _blood?_

"Ankh..." Eiji starts. 

Hina looks from the bandage to the vial and crosses her arms. "That is  _not_ what I meant."

Eiji reaches for Ankh's hand, pulling it toward his face for a closer look. "What did you do?"

"Hina wanted blood," Ankh replies, as if it's nothing. "Date was going to stick me with needles. This was easier."

Eiji turns to Hina. Either his head is spinning or the room is. "You wanted  _what?_ "

"If I want to make him as close to human as I can, I need something to work with. Like I'm making a shirt or a dress. I can't just wish really hard and hope something happens—I have to  _make_ it happen. And if I want to make it happen, I need more than empty air. I need fabric, scissors, thread, buttons—whatever. It depends on what I'm making. The blood is like thread in this case."

Odd as the idea is, Eiji understands. He presses his lips gently to the back of Ankh's hand, careful not to hurt the bandaged fingers.  _And he calls me "idiot,"_ Eiji thinks fondly. But before he can repeat it out loud, Ankh leans forward and gives him a proper kiss, as if he somehow knows what Eiji's thinking. Not that Eiji minds. He'll take an affectionate Ankh over a distant Ankh any day, even if that affection is supposed to keep him from talking. After a long moment, Ankh sighs and steps back. He's still barely a breath away, but Eiji misses him nonetheless. It's silly. It's utterly  _ridiculous_. 

Hina clears her throat; Ankh and Eiji jump away from one another almost guiltily. 

"Sorry," Ankh mutters, though Eiji knows he's not. 

"I've got to get back to work," Hina says. "If you wouldn't mind kissing my brother somewhere else."

Silence settles as the three of them realize exactly what it is Hina has just said. Though she does her best to hide it, Eiji can see how startled Hina is. She starts to draw, her movements short and sharp, and then the pencil snaps with a sound that bounces around the room. Ankh takes a step toward the door, looking once again on the verge of panic. 

But he stays. 

Frozen in place, Hina lets the pencil fall onto the table. "I mean it," she says softly. "You are. I'm not just doing this to get Shingo back, not anymore. If I wanted to, you know, I could make you someone else, but... I'm not. I don't want to."

Ankh looks to Eiji and Eiji feels tears sting his eyes. He blinks them away. "Ankh? What do you think?"

For a moment, Ankh says nothing. He opens his mouth, closes it, and looks like he might break down. Eiji can see the search on his face, a desperate hunt for the right words and the right punctuation, the right  _sentiment_. And when he can't find the words, Ankh simply reaches out to pull Hina into a crushing hug, burying his face in her hair to keep from crying. 

It's all very human.

 


End file.
